


Receive

by SenkoWakimarin



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-15 00:11:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7197227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SenkoWakimarin/pseuds/SenkoWakimarin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roadhog doesn't know how to receive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Receive

Roadhog knows how to take things he wants and he knows how to give, but when he’s actually offered something just for the sake of another wanting to give, he doesn’t quite know how to react.

He likes how reactive Junkrat is.

Maybe it’s because he himself has forgotten how to naturally come by such open, earnest responses to physical or emotional (especially emotional) stimuli. He prefers giving for that reason, rather than receiving. He likes how Jamie talks to him when he’s got the smaller man on his back, cock in his mouth, hands all over him. Jamie gets it right, moaning and talking, babbling really, because _oh, that’s nice_ and _yeah Hoggie, just like that_.

He likes those sounds; they really rev his engine, there’s a chance he could get off to them alone. Get off on getting Jamie off, wouldn’t that be a trick.

But it’s not always what Jamie wants… sometimes Jamie’s damn fidgety, eager for something else entirely. Roadhog doesn’t know how to receive, doesn’t know how he’s supposed to show his appreciation when what really gets him going isn’t his own satisfaction but that of his partner. Mako was good at this, good at explaining, good at, if nothing else, mimicking the little sounds of pleasure he knew his partners wanted to hear.

When ‘Rat gets down on his knees and strokes his slender fingers over ‘Hog’s thick cock, what gets Roadhog going isn’t the attention to his dick but the soft muttering praise Jamie always offers. It’s not that Jamie doesn’t look damn good down there, and it’s not that he hasn’t figured out what he’s doing – he does and he has.

It’s just that Roadhog doesn’t know how to receive.

When he keeps his mask on, it’s best. It’s ungodly hot under that thing, but it steadies him, makes him feel like he’s still playing a role, that he’s not expected to give praise or react to every little thing that makes him feel good.

Jamie braces one hand on each of ‘Hog’s thighs, the metal one surprisingly warm as it digs in and pushes his legs part. Not that ‘Rat could move any part of Roadhog if the bigger man didn’t let him, but ‘Hog’s feeling generous tonight, enough so that he’s letting this go down. He knows what Jamie would say if their positions were reversed, but all those happy sounds just fall flat coming from his growling baritone. Better that he just remains stoic, hands resting right over Jamie’s, just letting his breath pick up a little. That’s real from him, and Junkrat by now knows it.

Roadhog has never met anyone he’d allow to get this close to him, to see him literally with his trousers down. He was never a man of much sexual appetite, but there’s something about Junkrat that brings it out in him. Maybe because the little twitch has already proven that he doesn’t plan on blowing ‘Hog’s head off.

“You like it, Hoggie?” Jamie asks, not waiting for an answer before swallowing the bigger man down as best as he can. He doesn’t expect an answer because he’s figured his partner out pretty well by this point. The movement of one of ‘Hog’s hands from where it had rested to gently lacing in ‘Rat’s hair says plenty, and the smaller man hums happily and redoubles his efforts, moving fast and smooth. Roadhog tightens and relaxes his fingers reflexively, and that says plenty too.

“You wanna do somethin’ else,” ‘Rat asks softly, sliding his flesh hand down to fondle ‘Hog’s balls as he looks up at the bigger man and licks his lips. “You wanna fuck me?”

And that’s easier, that’s a no brainer; he pulls Jamie up into his lap and shoves the mask back, kissing him in a way that’s almost more like biting. It feels good just like this, because he knows he’s done _something_ right; Jamie’s hard against his gut and his cock is slick with precome.

He lines them up and grips them both in one massive fist, making the other man quake and whine as he jerks them slowly. This will always be more his speed, but he can see a certain attractiveness to the offer when Junkrat pants out a plaintive, “Wantcha t’ fuck me, mate, wantcha _in me_.”

It’s not much work to prep the other man and lube them both up, but the process is satisfying, especially the catlike arching from Junkrat.

“God, yeah, you’re good you’re so fuckin’ good…”

Jamie knows exactly what ‘Hog likes, never even once took his silence and brusque mannerism as a slight. They communicated well, and while Roadhog was rough in the way he manhandled that smaller body, he always took care to make certain this was what Junkrat wanted, that he was enjoying himself too.

His hands are rough and nice on Roadhog’s shoulders, squirming and practically begging the larger man to really rail him. When they’d first met, Roadhog had half expected those hands to be heat scaled and burn scarred, wrecked up from playing in too many fires. There are plenty of scars on Jamie’s body, but none of them are the kind gotten from being careless with flammable shit; Roadhog would know, as he’s had more opportunity than most to look.

It makes sense, knowing him as ‘Hog knows him now. Junkrat is more than a little mad, overly excitable and in love with his mayhem, but he’s also crafty as hell and far too careful to let himself just get swept up in one of his explosions.

All of this, honestly, should be exceptionally simple. Cut and dry. What was that old phrase, ‘friends with benefits’? Just sex, no strings attached.

That would make sense too, because Roadhog knows they both need this distraction, however bad he is at showing his appreciation for it. It’s a better solution for the tension that builds between them than alcohol or blow, either of which they could easily have gotten their hands on, but neither of which would have really let out any strain. Besides, Roadhog knows a little too well just how poorly inebriation helps with their kind of issues.

Either the nightmares would have gotten worse again (and he knows ‘Rat has them too, even if the smaller man never mentions them) or they’d have gotten drunk and hurt each other somehow. Probably with Jamie ending up by far the worse for it.

Contrary to popular belief, Roadhog isn’t good at “no strings attached.”

It’s all Jamie’s fault, he thinks furiously some nights, bunching up the sparse sheets that now beg for cleaning in his fingers and squeezing until the frustration leaks out between his knuckles. It’s Jamie’s fault. Because Jamie’s skin feels like it’s burning, always, imprinting on Roadhog’s shoulders and his gut and his thighs.

Because Junkrat says everything and nothing, always talking and praising and making strangled, incoherent noises like he’s drowning, they’re both drowning, and he can’t get enough air or enough of Roadhog. Because when it’s done, and his heart is still stuffed up somewhere in his throat, Jamie doesn’t leave and those nights, the nightmares are a little less ugly.

Roadhog is good at turning a blind eye to things. He ignores it, he waits for the better days when things are calm and the money is low and Jamie is raring to get moving. He pretends not to see the strange contemplation in Junkrat’s eyes, or the faint, occasional softness when he touches him, even for a second.

There shouldn’t be a difference, but there is, and it’s harder and harder to ignore.

It’s stupidly ironic, really. The cure becomes the problem. He might have thought it was funny a year ago – yeah, so fucking funny he could just fucking puke.

Instead here he is worrying about how Jamie is personally taking it that he never returns his praise.

When he comes, he comes hard, gritting his teeth and growling some wordless noise of pleasure. Jamie, already spent, murmurs something soft and delighted, cleaving to ‘Hog even as the larger man is pulling out. And honestly, he knows they should clean up, he knows they should get their shit together to be ready to leave in the morning, he knows they should at least find a more comfortable position to sleep in. He knows, he knows, he knows.

They do none of these things, because though Roadhog doesn’t know how to voice his pleasure for Junkrat, he’s actually a lot better at showing when he’s pleased than he gives himself credit for.

So he doesn’t move them and he certainly doesn’t even mention a shower, but instead shifts his hold on Jamie so the smaller man can snuggle in close the way he likes to. He helps remove ‘Rat’s prosthetics and lays them aside, and just like that the other man is breathing deeper, slower, drifting off.

They’ll both wake up from this stiff and sore, but the nightmares won’t be half as bad and neither of them will really complain come morning.


End file.
